On Ice
by Petronia
Summary: Skating no Oujisama, in the series' grand tradition of perverting other, innocently bystanding sports. Part wacky ensemble fluff, part Tezuka-centric character introspection.


**On Ice**

Once they went skating, on Kikumaru's recommendation. The place he picked was indoors, essentially a roller rink with a bona fide ice surface; part of an amusement-palace complex that took in an arcade, a movie theatre, concession stands and half a floor devoted to mini-golf. The crowd ran to cute and teenaged, the music to domestic R&B and Hello Project candyfloss, blaring from surround-speakers in time to the flashing coloured strobes that cast spinning star-patterns on ice and skaters alike. Riotous, happy, and obviously Kikumaru's environment from the moment they stepped in the door.

What wasn't obvious – at least until put to the test – was that Kikumaru didn't know how to skate at all, but had no intention of allowing minor quibbles to curb his fun.

"Ooishi! Ooishi wait up wait for meeeaaaaaahhhnyaaaa!"

Tezuka held back a wince as Kikumaru dopplered past, pinwheeling arms a near-blur. Obscenely speedy for a beginner, despite the gravity-defying contortions it took him just to keep vertical from one second to the next – was that a camel spin? It must have been unintentional – not for long, though, given that the only braking mechanism Kikumaru had figured out was to let himself slam into the boards, or a teammate, or—

"Eiji! Watch where you're—"

"Waaahh!"

"Ack!"

A crashing noise. A brace of nearby girls gave half-shrieks of surprise and giggled.

—Or both at once.

After a moment Inui drew up next to the twitching tangle of limbs that had once been Seigaku's Golden Pair. "Hhn," he said. "By all rights vector addition would seem to preclu—"

"Inui," Ooishi grunted, "_Give me a hand._" Kikumaru made a whining sound from somewhere under him.

"There's a two-to-one chance you'll make me fall if I did," Inui said, but he reached down and gave Ooishi a firm tug to disentangle him. The minimum quota of a teammate's duty accomplished, he kicked off again, moving somewhat reminiscently of a stiff-jointed marionette. Insofar as anyone knew, it was also the first time Inui had been set on skates. "Still, it's interesting. Interesting da—"

"Outta my way outta my way COMING THROUGH!" Momoshiro streaked past gleefully, waving something white over his head. He propelled himself bent deep in the knees, as effortlessly as any hockey player, ice crystals spraying in his wake. He'd surprised the rest of the team by being one of two regulars to turn up carrying his own skates. "Come and get it, Echizen!"

"Yarou," Echizen panted, a gleam in his eye. He sprinted after Momoshiro with commendable form, stumbling only occasionally. Had had practice in America, Tezuka assumed, though they were all athletically gifted and had quickly picked up the knack. Well, apart from— "Give it back!"

"Not a chance!"

The pursuit weaved through the circumambulating crowd, with joyful whoops and the scraping of blades on ice. The second time around Echizen had the bright idea of crossing the rink breadthwise, forcing Momoshiro to make a hairpin turn to avoid him. In process of doing so he nearly collided with Kaidou, who hissed like a boiling kettle in annoyance.

"Temee! Watch where you're going!"

"Bite me hard, Viper!" Momoshiro yelled from over his shoulder, flourishing Echizen's cap as punctuation to the deathless epigram. Kaidou gave a strangled growl, launched himself after Momoshiro—

And prompt fell over his own feet into the path of an oncoming skater. She crashed into him with a squeal of dismay. The couple skating hand-in-hand directly behind her tried to avoid the pile-up, stumbled and fell instead, the man dragging his date to the ice. The first woman tried to get up and kneed Kaidou in the ribs. He went back down with an audible 'oof', pinned and struggling like a very disgruntled starfish.

Echizen skirted the mess adroitly, skating backward into the boards. "Mada mada da ne," he said for the benefit of Kawamura, who was shuffling past. Kawamura only winced, muttered some private invocation and took a firmer grip on the banister. He hadn't let go of it once since he'd stepped on the ice.

Tezuka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning away. Some kind of hot soothing drink, he thought, would not be amiss at—

The scent of chocolate assailed him, and he looked up.

"Here," Fuji said, smiling. Tezuka blinked and automatically took the steaming styrofoam cup he was holding out. "Hot cocoa. I got you one while I was at it."

Tezuka murmured thanks. Beside him Fuji gave a satisfied half-sigh and leant back against the banister, rotating his own cup between his hands as if engaged in an impromptu tea ceremony. Turn, sip. Turn.

"This is fun," he said. "We should do this more often. Don't you think, Tezuka?"

"It's noisy," Tezuka said. "And someone is going to end up breaking a leg." Fuji did not widen his eyes in mock surprise; merely smiled a little wider.

"One of _our_ regulars?"

"It would be worse if they broke someone else's." That made Fuji laugh, a light, silvery sound that nevertheless carried. Halfway across the rink Kikumaru glanced around and waved. Fuji waved back; Kikumaru grinned, swung his arms frenetically and barely missed clobbering Ooishi, who apparently hadn't learnt what Kikumaru's proximity did for his chances of remaining upright.

"They're not as hopeless as they seem," Fuji said. "Even Taka-san's better than he thinks he is. You must have noticed." Tezuka remained silent, the exasperated thought uppermost in his mind that 'not as hopeless as they seem' could serve as epitaph to the Seigaku team in its entirety on and off the court. "Noisy, though... Eiji likes this place. He was talking about it all week. I told him an outside rink was better fun, on a sunny day with fresh air and fewer people."

"In Tokyo?"

"Oh, of course not." But Fuji did not volunteer the information. Tohoku perhaps, Tezuka thought, or Hokkaido. Or even overseas? He'd watched Fuji earlier, gliding here and there through the crowd with a kind of casual, unhurried grace. They had been the movements of a figure skater, consciously restrained; nothing of Momoshiro's showmanship. But where Momoshiro's blades left gashes and shavings on the ice, Fuji's traversal barely etched the surface, and was as soundless as a ghost's. For all that it said nothing about how long ago he'd learnt how to skate, or if he'd had to put thought or effort into the practice. Tezuka knew that Fuji's eccentric genius did not limit itself to the tennis court, but its manifestations were as unpredictable as the rest of the package.

It made him wary. The subconscious undercurrent shaded all their dealings; it might have been akin to a sense of rivalry, had there been a straightforward contest to define it.

A whistle sounded shrilly over the intercom, and the crowd turned with sluggish obedience, flowing counterclockwise. Fuji smiled.

"They'll take a break to resurface soon," he said. "Say, Tezuka, do you know Peanuts?"

Tezuka finished the dregs of his cocoa, waiting for Fuji to make sense.

"Charlie Brown once said that there are three things in life everyone likes to stare at: a flowing stream, a crackling fire, and a Zamboni clearing the ice." Fuji squatted down and picked up a chunk of ice that had been chipped free by someone's passage. "I wanted to be a Zamboni driver once. When I grew up."

"So people would stare at you?"

"No... not in itself. But it makes people peaceful to watch a Zamboni, as if it were a rock garden. It seemed like a nice occupation."

"You must have changed a lot," Tezuka said, before he could stop himself. Fuji lifted his head and smiled at him beatifically.

"Tezuka," he said. "Whatever do you mean? ...Oh, Taka-san. Are you all right?"

"Fine, Fujiko-chan, fine," Kawamura answered absently. Fuji moved away from the banister to let him pass, looking concerned. "Just... this is awfully unsteady business, isn't it? Not like tennis, both feet on the ground and all that. Ahaha. Ha." One of his skates caught on a bump in the ice, and he swallowed the rest of the nervous laughter with an audible gulp.

There was a silence after he'd wobbled past. Tezuka watched Fuji closely, not quite knowing why. Fuji was gazing pensively after Kawamura, then at the half-melted lump of ice in his palm. His eyes were very blue.

"Excuse me," he said, and skated off after the other boy, taking care to come up behind him quietly. Tezuka only realised what he intended a split second after it was too late.

"Fuji—"

Fuji slipped the ice down the back of Kawamura's shirt collar.

"WHO DID THAT? WHO DID THAT!" Kawamura spun, flames in his eyes, but Fuji had already ducked into the all-too-convenient rink entrance, expression radiating serene innocence. Kawamura's gaze locked on Momoshiro, a few feet away. "YOU TRYING TO START SOMETHING, PEACHES?"

"Wha—?" Momoshiro looked around, and blanched. Kawamura had grabbed a handful of ice scraps and was advancing on him menacingly, the fact that he'd ever been unsteady on his skates seemingly forgotten. "Taka-san, I – I didn't do it—"

"BUUURRRNNING!"

"Are you all right?" Fuji said cheerfully, coming up alongside Tezuka again. "You look as if you have a headache."

Tezuka bit back the 'twenty laps' that came unbidden to his lips. They were technically off club-duty, but Fuji would have obeyed him – instantly, on ice skates.

"Twenty laps around the rink?" Fuji said in helpful tones. And then, as Tezuka's glare proved unabated, "_Tezuka._"

Those blue eyes. For once he was conscious of the wariness, spine prickling. When Fuji's smile came it was as agreeable as ever, but Tezuka could not decode what meaning his gaze might have conveyed.

"It's all right to loosen up, you know. Every once in a while."

"Don't trouble yourself with unnecessary matters," Tezuka said. Fuji shrugged, leaning back easily against the banister again. Still smiling.

"That I never do."

* * *

_— Montreal, February 2004 _


End file.
